This is my husband. As is obvious, he’s a black man. What’s not so obvious is that he’s also a police officer.
I know some saw this picture – black man in front of a graffiti wall - and thought they knew everything they needed to know about him. Others were cool until they read he was a cop, then they made up their mind that they didn’t need to know anything else about him.
That’s because we’ve fallen into the trap of the singular story.
We hear a particular narrative about a group of people and that’s how we define everyone in that group (black men, officers, Muslims, gays, Christians, Syrians, republicans, democrats…)
When we do this it absolves us of the responsibility of treating others as our brothers and sisters. It allows us to neglect to see others in their humanity and instead to disregard them as “other”.
But I want to rob you of the protection and bias of the singular story.
This is my husband – both black & blue. And this is his story. . . He’s the child of immigrants who came to America to seek a better life. He believes in serving his country and his community. He’s a veteran of war. He’s a husband & a father.
On Saturday, he got up and drove me to my speaking engagement. He then went to work out before coming back to pick me up. (I secretly think he likes being my chauffeur). He took the cars out to get washed, bought a few groceries and threw some meat on the grill for dinner. Later that night, he went out to support a few of his fellow brothers in ministry and music.
On Sunday morning, he got up early and went to a men’s prayer meeting. He came back, had breakfast with me, emptied his wallet of all cash so the littlest could go to the state fair, checked in with the oldest and then we headed to church. After church, we sat at the coffee shop and talked about our hopes, dreams and goals for the future.
On Monday morning, we prayed. He put on his vest, his badge, and his belt. I kissed him goodbye, told him to be safe and silently prayed again that he would come back through the door at the end of the day.
He spent the day, as he’s spent every work day for the last 15 years – protecting & serving; being a light; working to be the change; loving his community & giving his all to make it safe for those who live there. He counseled some, prayed with others, issued some stern warnings, wrote some tickets, cautioned a few youth, took someone to jail, mourned with those who mourned & rejoiced with those who were rejoicing.
And with the grace of God, he returned to us at the end of the day (something we never get to take for granted).
This is his story. This is our story. We don’t get to choose sides – at times under attack both in and out of uniform. This is our life – more than just hashtags, more than just labels.
More than a singular story.
So the next time you reduce a black man or an officer to just a hashtag or you feel like if he (black or blue) lost his life that “he got what he deserved” or “he should have just” or “what do you expect”, I want you to remember there’s more to him than the singular story.
Our humanity demands that we take the time to examine our bias, take action to change the narrative, engage in meaningful dialogue, fight for social justice (not against each other) & demonstrate a greater measure of love.
Are you up to the challenge?
(Now sharing is caring. If this resonated with you, be sure to blast this on Twitter and Facebook. Let’s work together to make a difference.)